"'No,' says he. 'Don't know when I'll come back.' Thought he looked a bit off coloured, too. Told me to close up the office till I heard from him, and not to forward anything. Rum go, eh?"
"Seems like mighty poor business," ventured the other.
The clerk sniffed. "Business!" he exclaimed. "Much Sevier cares about that! A man with a brain like his and a silver tongue to boot doesn't need business! But after that speech of his the other day I should think he'd sit tight as wax to those Civic Club people. They're going to make a real campaign of it and he could get on the ticket sure. It'd be a cinch! Why he wants to light out abroad somewhere beats me! Well, I don't care how long he stays. I'm going to shut up the shebang to-night and put in some good licks for my law-examination."
They entered the office and the door closed upon their voices.
Echo stood motionless, looking down into the street. Harry had gone away! He had gone with despair and anger, or worse than anger, against her in his heart leaving behind him only that mangled portrait and that ominous bottle on the desk! Where had he gone, and when should she see him again?
Just across the way a knot of people was gathering in front of a newspaper bulletin-board whereon a great white sheet was being pasted, and her gaze—first mechanically, then with a start of shrinking comprehension—read the staring headlines that had been roughly lettered upon it:
CAMERON CRAIG SHOT DOWN BY BURGLAR
DESPERATE MIDNIGHT ENCOUNTER IN FINANCIER'S LIBRARY
WOUNDED MAN UNCONSCIOUS BUT STILL ALIVE
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN INVOLVED